


Ayam

by Hecallsmehischild



Series: His Names [1]
Category: Christian Bible, Invader Zim
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-19
Updated: 2016-08-19
Packaged: 2018-08-09 17:14:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 10
Words: 13,452
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7810423
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Hecallsmehischild/pseuds/Hecallsmehischild
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Story 1 of the His Names series. Zim finds himself stripped of everything, locked in an underground laboratory, and screaming at a voice only he can hear. He demands the identity of the speaker, but the answer may be more than he bargained for.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Voice

**Author's Note:**

> Story written and completed in 2010, published to AO3 in 2016.

Zim shivered in his reinforced glass cell. It had been three days. Count them. Three. He wouldn't have known if his PAK hadn't consistently reminded him every day that time had passed. How else could he know, locked in an underground laboratory?

How the Dib had finally convinced his stupid Swollen Eyeballs of Zim's alienness was neither interesting nor important. What was important was freeing himself. He'd already lost an antenna and one eye to the inquisitive scalpels and snippers of the scientists. "For preservation and testing," they'd claimed, wielding the terrifying tools. He shuddered. He had to get out of there before he lost more. Who knew what they'd start cutting, prodding, and removing next?

His PAK weaponry remained in disuse. His captors had informed him in no uncertain terms that they had his robot, and would not hesitate to dismantle it if he showed the least aggression toward them.

He pounded his fist against the wall. "Stupid GIR, why did you have to get yourself caught too? Stupid Dib probably told them all about stupid GIR. Stupid bighead with his stupid pointy hair!"

Zim turned to the one thing that showed a little promise. He'd found that, through his PAK's amazing capabilities, he'd been able to connect with the human information network, also known as the internet. He had discovered it before, but never really paid it attention. Now, however, he scoured it for information. Any information he could use to free himself and destroy his captors. But where to start? The sheer volume was staggering, and much of it was either false or subjective… or just plain disgusting.

"Really?" He muttered, blanching. "Who wants to know the content of a dog's fecal matter? Filthy stink creatures."

He sat back against the wall, contemplating the ceiling. He listed the weaknesses he'd found in humans over time. Family and friends? No good, he couldn't threaten anybody from his cell. Substances? But he didn't have any with which to bribe them. Besides, how would he acquire them, and would men of science stoop to that level so readily? Probably not.

He stroked his chin. There was one more area he had considered before as a point of attack. To date, he had not been able to find a force more suited to tearing the humans apart at the seams than their beliefs. Their precious, hard-won religion. He sneered to himself. It seemed every religion ordered its converts to subdue every other religion, by cunning and coaxing or force. There were a few exceptions, but they were rare.

If he could find out the religion of the science-men and use it to manipulate them, perhaps he would be released.

Much to his dismay, however, he soon found that most men of science—at least those most outspoken on the internet—believed in no religion. A small group of them had banded together under the name "Intelligent Design" though, that looked promising. Apparantly they had gathered evidence that there was some intelligent being that created the universe, instead of random happening.

Zim rolled his eyes as he scanned the information. Humans would believe _anything_.

A link at the side of the webpage caught his eye. The heading read, "For the Judeo-Christian account of creation, click here. For the Islamic account, click here. For the Bhuddist account, click here. For the Hindu account, click here." And on and on the list went. Zim frowned. How was he going to choose which one to start with?

He bolted upright. "I am ingenious!" He exclaimed. "I shall compare the sales of the records of each of these religions and see which has the most. That one will surely have had the most influence on the planet!"

It didn't take many searches to discover that, out of all the religious writings, the Records of the Judeo-Christian account had sold the most over the longest period of time. Now reduced to two Records, Zim considered the Torah and the Bible. Another quick search indicated the Bible contained the Torah, and he laughed. Silly fools, to have two separate religions when they used the same portions of the Record. But then, when had anything the humans did make any sort of sense?

Pulling up a website containing the entirety of what was the Christian Record, Zim began scanning it for information. Almost immediately he stopped, puzzled. "Gar-den? What is a garden? And snakes don't talk… this is stupid."

_Need help?_

"GAH!" Zim startled, leaping aside and jerking his head around left and right. No one was there.

"Hehe, heh, that must have been a mouse, yes. A filthy rodent making noise. In… my… brain." He turned back to the internet screen. Again, he frowned. "So the first human meatsacks ate fruit, and had to leave their homes? What sort of idiotic rule is that?"

_Mine._

Zim shrieked, lunging across the room to cower in a corner. "Who are you?" Zim demanded, alarmed at the voice that seemed to be speaking into his mind. "What are you doing in my head?" Before the voice could answer, he yelled louder, "Who are you?" And again, "Who are you?"

There was a calculated silence, and Zim thought he felt a sense of amusement. But the voice that followed the silence carried a gravity that belied the initial feeling.

_I Am._

Zim crumpled to the ground, gasping. The force of the words swept through his body, sucking the air from his spooch and sending his brain reeling.

_I Am._

Zim had often used that statement, and followed it with his name. "I am ZIM!" he proclaimed, often and loudly. But this voice, this entity, all that was needed were those two words. Nothing more was needed. It—He—was the essence of active existence.

_I Am._

He lay there, curled into a fetal position for several minutes. Slowly, he uncurled himself and sat up, eyes wide.

"Wh-what was that?"

_My Name._

"Y-your name has that much power? I could barely breathe! And… what kind of a name is.. is…" he hesitated, afraid to speak those words together.

_It is Myself._

Zim couldn't find the wherewithal to pull his jaw shut. His eyes darted wildly. "This is… some strange joke… the humans—no, they don't have the capability… I… what are you? And don't say that again!"

_You were reading My words._

He glanced down at the internet screen, still open. "Your… this? The Record of the Christians?"

_I suppose the Records is a very apt name for it, yes. It records history for many generations of the human race known as the Israelites. Then it records My time on Earth. Then it records the future of the planet and the end of the world._

Zim frowned. "And the Israelites are? Nevermind, Zim does not want to know. Just get out of my head. I have my escape to plan."

_As you wish._

Zim stared at the screen a little longer, before something sank in. "Wait, the future of the planet? Is that possible? And the end of the world?" Excitedly, he searched for the part of the Records detailing the destruction of the planet. He didn't have to search long, but when the Record known as Revelations came up, he just stared at it.

"Beasts, dragons, Babble On? What intoxications were these humans on to write such things?" He shut the internet screen down with disgust. "This is pointless, none of this is going to help me understand how to manipulate the humans." He frowned. "Wait… that voice, it said it wrote this… what was its name… Aye… am… Ayam. Ayam?"

_Yes?_

The Irken managed to contain himself this time, and glared, putting his fists on his hips. "What the flirk were you thinking, writing this? Nobody can understand it, it makes no sense."

_Zim, you're—_

"HOW DO YOU KNOW THE NAME OF ZIM?"

_Aside from the fact that you shout it several times a day, I made you._

Zim laughed harshly. "Very funny, disembodied voice, but I was cloned from two completely random genetic donors. You had no part in making me. Nobody is made like you make a ship or you make a Megadoomer."

 _You're right. I don't make people like people make Megadoomers._ Amusement lightened the tone of the voice. _I'm the one who designed the cell, Zim. The atom, the molecule. I put the functions in place so they could replicate. And then, I created a soul. One different from any other ever seen in the universe, and placed it in your new body._

Zim snorted. "A soul? Those are human things that they talk about. Irkens have no such things, we have no need for them. We have PAKs." He pointed to his, proudly.

_Your race has integrated technology into your biology, but that doesn't mean that I have stopped placing souls in your shells._

Zim pondered this, slightly disturbed.

_A moment ago, I was about to say that it is almost impossible for you to understand the Records. You are Irken, and the Record was transcribed by humans. There is a message you can understand, but you need help to understand it._

Zim's antenna perked. "You would explain to Zim, so I can get my freedom?"

_In ways you have no comprehension of._

"Then begin!" Zim demanded, seating himself and pulling up the internet screen. "I must know the meanings of these things. First, what is a gar-den?"


	2. Taste

In the weeks that followed, Zim combed through almost every page of the Records, convinced that even the mind-numbing portions of law and number-chronicling held some secret that he could uncover. Whenever he was summoned for testing, he hid the screen hurriedly and left his cell, pondering what it could all mean. At the end of every painful test, he would drag himself back to his cell, snarling threats the entire way, then lie down on the floor to recover. Often, Dib would walk by his cell, throwing taunts at him. Zim always demanded release, but the horrible child would only laugh at him. Him! The future slave-master of the entire race.

One day, after a particularly grueling experiment, Zim lay curled in the corner. He heard the bootsteps, and decided he wouldn't even acknowledge Dib this time. He wasn't worth it. If only the burning would stop so Zim could concentrate and talk to Ayam. Whatever or whoever this Ayam was, he was most informative. He was even, Zim secretly admitted, pleasant conversation. Intelligent conversation at least. Much better than GIR's mindless prattling.

"Hey spaceboy. You might like to see this." Dib's voice was smug. Zim cracked his eye open, peering through the slit as Dib toted a hoverscreen into view, adjusting the dials. "Thought you might want to know how you were caught."

Zim's antenna twitched.

"See," Dib gloated, "No one would believe _me_ , but an actual transmission from actual aliens proves things."

The Irken frowned. "What are you saying, smelly?"

Dib gestured to the screen. "Why don't you watch for yourself?"

Despite himself, Zim glanced at the screen. For a second, he gave a glad cry. "My Tallests!" A smile split his face. "You've come to rescue me!"

"Hello, Earthlings. I greet you in the name of the Irken Empire." Tallest Red stood, arms crossed as he delivered his message, while Tallest Purple waved from the side.

"This message was sent to all Agents of the Swollen Eyeball network." Dib explained smugly.

"A while ago, we exiled one of our worst Invaders to your rock, hoping he would die. Unfortunately, he hasn't, and we're sick of his plots messing up our plans for Invasion."

"Not to mention his constant calls. And the times he tries to force us to come to Earth." Purple whined.

"The point is," Red continued, "We're sick of him. We would appreciate it if you caught him and did whatever it is you want to do to him, just get him to shut up and leave us alone. This," and here, Red disappeared as a hologram of Zim in disguise popped up, "Is what he looks like. In disguise, of course."

Purple pushed aside the hologram and chirped, "In exchange for dealing with Zim, we'll promise never to blow up or invade your planet. Everybody wins!"

"Except Zim," Red snickered. "Which is just fine with us. Almighty Tallests Red and Purple out."

The screen fizzled into blackness. Zim stared at the screen, the smile frozen to his face.

"So, Zim, any thoughts?" Dib smirked. "Any proclamations of doom and destruction, or are you still under the delusion that you really were sent to conquer us?"

Zim's eyes began to smart. He hadn't closed them once since the transmission began. Slowly, he pulled himself to his feet and turned to Dib. The boy's grin faltered at the crazy smile pasted on the Irken's face. Without warning, Zim lunged at the wall of the cell, slamming into it face-first and scratching furiously at the glass. Little shavings curled out from under his claws and dropped to the ground.

"I will kill you, Dib. _Kill_ you! Do you hear me? I will rip out your throat and claw out your eyeballs, _BOTH_ of them! Let me go, NOW, so I can squeeze your puny little neck until your head explodes!"

Dib stumbled back, shaken. "Y-you'd better knock it off, Zim. They still have GIR, they'll take him apart if you keep this up."

The frantic scratching ceased, but the manic smile remained. "It doesn't matter. I will be free, Dib, and when I am, you're the first one I'm coming after. This is all your fault, you and your stupid Eyeballs."

"How is it our fault you got exiled, huh?" Dib countered. "It was your own stupid fault."

Zim growled, "Leave, now, human. Before I forget about GIR."

Dib grabbed the view-screen and darted out of the room.

Zim sank to the ground, threw back his head, and howled at the ceiling. Fury stretched his vocal cords to the limit at his howling became shrieks of pure rage.

"How DARE they, how DARE they! I AM ZIM! ZIM! Do they not KNOW that I am ZIM? Do they not KNOW all I have done for THEM, for their precious invasion? I am the pinnacle of destruction, the epitome of an Invader! I served them faithfully, and THIS is how they repay me? Ayam!

_No need to shout. I can hear you perfectly well._

"Ayam, rain down doom and destruction on the Tallests. And then on these humans. You say you are the being in these records known as 'God'. If that is so, then do some of that stuff you did in the beginning of the Records. Immediately!"

_I am not to be commanded by anyone, Zim._

Zim growled. "But you should! We are comrades, aren't we? What of our many conversations? You would not do this for Zim?"

_No, Zim._

Gnashing his teeth, he shouted, "If you won't destroy anything, what good are you? Get away, leave me alone!"

_As you wish._

"Oh, so you'll do THAT for Zim, but you won't do OTHER things."

Silence.

"Don't bother coming back either."

Nothing.

Zim sat against the wall of his cell and pulled out his own screen from his PAK, calling up the last place he'd left off in the Records. He had just finished the first portion of the Records, the solid chunk known as the Old, now he was about to begin the New. Perhaps there would be more stories or warnings of destruction. That would cheer him up… maybe.

Zim frowned as he began. Only a few sentences in and he was already confused. He gritted his teeth. Flattening his antenna, he muttered, "Ayam… what is a virgin, and why is it so important if one has a smeet?"

…..

"So… what you're saying is, you became a human."

_Yes._

"And tried to teach them, but they killed you."

_Yes._

"But before they killed you, you took all the badness from the time the first dirt-bags ate the evil fruit stuffs all the way into the future to the end of time… and put it in yourself?"

_Yes._

"Aaaaand then you came alive again."

_Yes._

"What are you, a zombie?"

_No._

"Cause only zombies come back to life. All the earth-films say so."

_Zombies don't exist, Zim._

"Well neither do dead people coming back to life!"

_But I did._

"How?"

_I was a man, and I was God. Fully both._

"That makes no sense. You can't be both, you have to be one or the other."

_Zim, how many dimensions does the Irken race deal in?_

"Eh? Oh, four or five."

_And the humans?_

Zim snorted. "The puny things are still stuck in the third, and grappling with the concept of the fourth."

_I made the dimensions, Zim, and there are more than you can count._

Zim's eyes bugged. "Wh-what?"

_And I Am above them all. I can be both fully God and Human, and it makes perfect sense. But there are some things you can't see or understand, because you are stuck in the fourth and fifth dimensions._

Zim frowned, but the voice chuckled. _Don't forget the best part._

"But I don't get this part! Little fires light the heads of your minions and they start speaking like they have brainworms, but somehow everybody understands. And they say that if they just believe that you took their badness, died, and became alive again, they are saved. What does that even mean?"

_Their souls, Zim. Their souls are saved._

"Right. That thing I don't have."

_It's right here._

Zim stiffened as he felt a strange warmth in the hollow of his chest. "What are you doing? Stop that!" The warmth receded.

_You have a soul too. I know. I made it._

Shakily, Zim muttered, "The Records indicate your creation of the humans. It says nothing about Irkens."

_That's because it's the human record, Zim. There isn't an Irken Record. Yet._

Zim glared at the floor. "So this soul-saving thing. What does it mean."

_There are two places to be when the body ceases to function. One place is with Me. The other is away from Me. Those who reject what I have to say choose to go where I Am not._

The enormity of that statement struck Zim like a plasma bolt. Rather than be with Ayam, these people chose to be in the single place in all existence where the very Essence of Existence Himself was not. He never sent them there, they chose to go. And he let them.

"You're stupid!" Zim exclaimed. "Absolutely stupid! If you just made them all choose the right way, then there wouldn't be a problem."

 _I don't want minions, Zim._ The voice came sternly. _I don't want an army of SIR units or heartless machines. I want friends. People who choose freely to serve and love Me. There is no joy in a parrot screeching 'I love you' over and over._

"Love." Zim snorted. "Another idiotic idea."

_Don't mock what you don't understand._

"Why not? It is a weak emotion, devoid of intelligence and… stuff."

_Care to try a taste?_

"Why not? There's no way it could possibly change any—"

The warmth he'd felt before exploded through his body, enfolding every cell and fiber of his being. It felt like every molecule of his body was coming to life and expanding outward, reaching and stretching toward something. Underneath it all he felt a hollow cavern, a gaping hole where he had always screamed without being heard. From here he had shouted at the Tallests for hours until they'd acknowledged him. From here he had wiped out all his fellow Invaders in Impending Doom 1, seeking to be the greatest. From here he had sought time and time again to impress his leaders, only to fail and earn their hatred. Into this poured the life, the overwhelming sense that he was, indeed, important, if to no one else than this being. That this being would stretch across time and space and move the sky and the sea if Zim would just let him in.

Slowly, the sensation receded, leaving the Irken trembling like a leaf on the floor, eyes full of some unknown gloppy substance.

_And that, Zim, was only a taste._

Panicked, Zim bolted upright. "Don't leave me! Don't take it away!"

_I will never leave you or forsake you._

"Be my leader! Be my Tallest, please!" Zim begged. "I will serve you, I will be your most loyal servant ever!"

_I accept, Zim._

"I will! I promise!"

_I—_

"Really, you won't find anybody else better suited to the task than Zim, please!"

_Zim. I heard you. And I accept._

Pausing, Zim managed, "Really?"

_I never turn away anyone who comes to Me._

Zim blinked. "Just like that?"

_Just like that._

"Wow." Zim sat there for a little while. A smile slowly crawled across his face, his antenna rising. "Neat."


	3. Pride

"Are you joking?" Zim snarled. "You cannot be serious, this is that humor thing you installed in humans."

_This is very serious._

"I will not," he grated, "Stoop to _asking_ the human filthies to release me. They should release me because… because they should! Because they shouldn't treat me this way, isn't that what you taught them?"

_This isn't about them. It's about you, Zim. And your pride._

"My pride? What about my pride?"

_You need to release it._

Zim tilted his head back and laughed. "Release my pride. Now you ARE joking. Have you seen what they've done to me?" His voice grew harsher. "DO YOU SEE WHAT THEY'VE DONE? The humans and the Tallests together, they stripped me of everything. EVERYTHING! My PRIDE is all I have left! It's all that's keeping me together!"

_Your pride will kill you._

He fell silent, staring at the floor.

"Releasing my pride will destroy me."

Silence.

"You cannot ask this of Zim!" He railed, pounding his fist against the floor. "This is all I have left! The very last thing! They have everything else, they can't take my pride!"

_They can't take it. I'm asking you for it._

"No," his voice broke. "Don't. Don't ask for that. Ask for anything else."

Silence.

"ANYTHING!"

"Hey spaceboy, talking to yourself again?" A shadow fell over Zim and he tensed. Dib stood there, staring at him oddly. "Guess you've lost it, huh? Can't blame you. Can you still hear me?"

Coldly, Zim spat, "Zim can hear perfectly well, even with one antenna."

"Vision and depth perception?"

Zim gritted his teeth. His vision was fine, but with only one eye he had trouble judging distances like he used to.

"Guess that answers my question." Dib checked his watch. "Well, they'll be down to get you for the next round of testing soon. They just sent me down here to check on your stability. Questionable, as usual. Nothing out of the ordinary." He turned to leave.

A quiet murmur stopped Dib in his tracks. He stared at the door, eyes wide.

"What… did… you say?"

"Release Zim. Please."

Turning to face the alien, Dib allowed the shock to register on his face. "You… you're asking… you're not demanding?" He gave a small nervous chuckle. "The testing finally got to you, didn't it?"

Zim stared at the floor. He brought up every word like he was regurgitating stones from the depth of his spooch. "Please. Release. Zim."

Dib slammed his fist into the glass, drawing a flinch from the alien. In a measured tone, he replied, "You can forget it, Zim. I spent too much time proving that you even existed, much less trying to catch you. You're going to spend the rest of your life here, and you may as well accept it. Consider it payment for all the years of abuse I had to take from everyone who called me crazy." With that, he turned and stalked out the door.

A deep groan issued from the Invader as he sank to the floor. Pressing his cheek to the cold concrete, he moaned, "What now? I have nothing. Reduced to begging from my worst enemy, and he threw it in my face." He covered his face with his hands. "I have nothing. I am nothing. I'm not even Zim anymore. Zim would never do such a thing."

_Well done._

Zim froze. "Wh-what?"

_Well done._

"Did you not just hear everything I said?"

 _Yes. But you forgot what_ I _said in the Records. My grace is sufficient for you. My power is made perfect in weakness._ A curious warmth crept through Zim's veins, driving his shame before it. _In your strength, you could do nothing. But you didn't know that. Now you know, now you acknowledge it, and now I can work in you in ways you never even imagined._

Zim gasped as the warmth reached his chest and flooded his entire being. Goopy wetness filmed his remaining eye, distorting his vision.

_Well done._

The door slid aside. Rubbery-gloved hands grabbed his arms, wrenching him to his feet, but he barely registered it. All throughout the tests, he concentrated on the warmth, soaking in it, reveling it in even as the pain registered at the edges of his consciousness. He never opened his eye to see what was happening. He didn't care. All he wanted was to rest in the warmth and never leave it.

But better than the warmth were the words he had received. His Tallests had never, ever commended him, no matter how hard he tried. No matter what he did, no one took any delight or awe in what he did, not his mighty feats or his amazing inventions. Well, GIR had, but he barely counted. But this… to know that the being that set a place and a name for every single star and planet in the galaxy… no, the universe… that THAT being thought Zim had done well…

If he'd known this was the reward for relinquishing his pride, he mused, he would have done it long ago. A strange feeling welled up beneath the warmth. He considered it, confused. Hesitantly, he murmured under his breath, "What is that?" But just as quickly, he placed it. "Is that… love?"

_It is love, Zim. You are discovering that you love Me, because I loved and chose you first._

"But I thought love involved lots of pain!"

A gentle laugh pervaded his thoughts. _It does, Zim, but not like the time you tried to woo Tak. That was hate._

"Well," he muttered, "At least that makes some sense."

The pain increased slightly, and another voice demanded, "What is the alien going on about?"

"It's probably delusional from the pain. We injected several CCs of water into its veins… why it isn't shrieking like it normally does is beyond me though."

Zim opened his eye wide. "Ayam… are you…"

_I will not give you more than you can bear._

"Who are you talking to, alien?" A scientist frowned, scribbling on a pad.

Zim glanced at the scientist, then smirked slightly. "No one. Nothing. _You_ wouldn't know him."

The warmth receded, and pain began ripping at his innards. He gasped, doubling over. "What?"

_Your pride leaves no room for me, Zim._

He howled, clawing at his skin. "No! No! Come back! Make it stop!"

_Release your pride._

Zim gasped out, "Ayam! I was talking to Ayam, Ayam speaks to Zim!" As he spoke, the pain subsided to a manageable level. He grimaced.

"Ayam? Who is Ayam?" One scientist scrutinized him.

Another scoffed, "It's becoming delusional, hearing voices. Don't pay attention, just run the next set of tests."

Zim kept his mouth shut for the rest of the testing, retreating to the warmth and protection Ayam provided for him. In the back of his mind, he thought he heard screaming. At first he thought it might be himself screaming, but it didn't sound like him. It sounded… almost like…

Ayam. Ayam was protecting him from the pain, and taking it. Zim's eyes flew open and he swatted at the scientists frantically. "Stop! Stop! You are hurting Ayam, you are making pain for him!"

"Is that your new name, then?" The scientist quirked a brow. "I thought your name was Zim."

"Ayam is not Zim, Ayam is protecting Zim from pain, but he is taking the pain! You are hurting him, stop, please!"

"He's developing sympathy tactics. Interesting. Continue."

As the screams climbed, Zim howled in grief. His commander, his leader, was suffering. And there was nothing he could do about it.


	4. Patience

_Ask again, Zim._

Zim groaned, pressing his hands to his forehead. "Ayam, not again. Please. They don't listen. None of them do. I beg them on the table, I beg them from the cell, I ask every day. They just continue like they never heard me. If I cannot have my pride, let me be silent at least. Asking does nothing."

_Ask again, Zim. Ask the next person you see._

"Why?" Zim whined. "What will be different this time?"

_My Name._

"Eh?" Zim cocked his head to the side. "What do you mean?"

"What do you mean what do I mean? I haven't said anything yet." Dib paused in front of his cell. "Look, Zim, what's going on with you? Really. These last two weeks you haven't been… well… you. The old Zim wouldn't be asking us to let him go every day."

Zim didn't answer. He continued staring at the wall, his head tilted at an angle. Dib rolled his eyes. "Right. You go ahead and pretend I'm not here. I'll just go be somewhere else if you're gonna act like this."

Dib had only taken three steps when something clicked in Zim's mind. The power that had swept through him when he'd heard the name of Ayam. The slow process of giving up his pride. The deep, warm cleansing he'd felt afterward. It could all come together!

"DIB!" Zim bolted up and placed his palms flat against the glass. "DIIIIIB!"

Dib turned back, annoyed. "What is it?"

Zim stared at him. "Please release Zim."

Dib glared. "Again? Really Zim, this is getting pathetic. You know the answer by now. There's no way—"

"Ayam says release Zim."

Dib paused, a puzzled expression crossing his face. "Ayam? Who is Ayam, Zim? Who've you been talking to?"

Zim frowned. The Dib didn't know Ayam? But—

_By another name._

He blinked. Ayam had more names, that's right. Immediately he sent out tendrils of consciousness onto the human internets, combing through lists of names relating to Ayam. Nothing. He tried Eyam. Iyam. Only when he entered "I Am" did he find what he was looking for.

"Cornerstone, Light of the World, High Priest, Bridegroom, Savior, The Good Shepherd, Prince of Peace, Yeshua, Jesus, Lamb of God, do any of those sound familiar?"

Dib's face had completely drained of color. He stood there, swaying slightly. He whispered, "You've got to be kidding me. This is some kind of cruel hoax."

Insistently, Zim repeated, "Release Zim, He said so!"

"He did not!" Dib shouted, kicking the glass as hard as he could. "He did not! There's no way he would tell anyone to release a menace like you back into the world!"

Zim gaped. "Wait, you KNOW Him?"

Dib's lip pulled back into a sneer. "Know Him? I spent the last several years asking Him to help me take you down. And now that I've got you, you suddenly tell me I've got to let you go because he says so? Real convenient, Zim. Real freaking convenient. How did you find out about Him? Who told you? Who told you I prayed, huh? Gaz let it slip, didn't she? Well guess what, I'm onto your tricks. You didn't hear anything from anyone. You've just gone crazy in confinement. Know how I know?" He pressed his face against the glass. "Cause you're an alien! God did what He did for HUMANS. You don't even have a soul, you're half machine! If I hear you ask one more time to be let go, I'll have them pull your teeth one by one and cut out your tongue!" With that, he shoved himself away from the glass and stomped off.

Zim stared dully after that. He felt his heart sink. "Well," he croaked, "What was the good of that? What now?"

_Now, Zim, I teach you the next thing you need to learn._

"What's that?"

_Patience._

….

Days passed. Every day, Dib came down to see Zim, with a glare that dared him to ask again. Every day, Zim looked up from the ground with a tired expression, and said nothing. And every day, Dib left, with a troubled look on his face. Eventually, he began coming down with the troubled look already on his face. Dark circles sprouted under his eyes, and his scythe-like hair drooped a little further every time Zim saw him.

One day, Dib dragged himself into the room and palmed the security lock. Zim shivered, mentally preparing himself to be pulled away for more testing. Instead of going to Zim, though, Dib merely turned and shut the opening behind him. He then turned to Zim and stared at him in silence for several minutes.

"I think," Dib finally croaked, his voice hoarse and raw. "That I'm supposed to get you out of here. And that I'm supposed to give you Tak's ship. And that I'm supposed to go with you, and help you do something."

Zim blinked. His antennae raised. "Are you serious?" His heart quickened.

Dib glared. "I wouldn't be in this state if I were kidding, Zim. I've been having this dream over and over and over again where you and I are in space, in Tak's ship, and I'm showing you something in a book that looks an awful lot like a Bible."

Frowning, Zim accessed the internet again. Bible, yes, that was what the humans had called the Records.

His eyes rounded. "That… that makes sense!" He grabbed Dib's shoulders. "Dib, that makes sense, we can take the Records and translate them into my language for Irk! But I need you to help me find other ways of saying what we have no words or concepts for, because you understand them better!"

Dib stared. "You're… planning on bringing the Bible to your planet. That's what I'm supposed to help you do." He turned and rested his forehead against the glass. "This is insane."

"YOU'RE calling something insane? Dib, maybe Ayam sent you the dream!"

"He's never done anything like that before, why now?"

"Because you're the only human who knows anything about Irkens AND the Records! I mean, I assume you know about the Records if you speak to Ayam…"

Dully, Dib nodded.

"Please, Dib. Release me, in the Name of Ayam. Let me go, and come with me so we can send the Records to my race!"

Again, silence. Then Dib straightened himself, running his hand through his scythe and muttering, "I do not BELIEVE I am doing this, after ALL the time I spent… be ready at any time, okay?"

"Okay." Zim smiled. "I'll wait for your signal."


	5. Vision

Zim stood in a corridor, looking curiously up and down it. His body didn't feel quite like his body. It felt lighter somehow. At one end of the corridor he could see himself, huddled unconscious in a corner of Tak's ship while his PAK furiously repaired the damage the scientists had done with their last test. He smiled. So, Dib had pulled it off and gotten him out of there after all. A cyan blur careened around Zim, laughing and shouting happily about the big-headed boy. Zim's smile widened. Dib had even rescued GIR. He shook his head. He didn't think it was possible, but apparently Ayam didn't joke when he said nothing was impossible with him.

At the other end of the corridor was a brilliant glow. He hurried toward the light, filled with a sense of anticipation. Something good was going to happen, something wonderful.

A deathly cold hand clamped down on his shoulder, halting his progress. Confused, he looked up. A brilliant figure stood there, covered in light and gold and jewels, with a face as radiant as the sun. But coldness seeped from his being, a coldness that worked its way through Zim's skin and into his heart. He tried to break free, but the figure's grip was like a vise.

"You cannot have this one!" The figure hissed. "Your price covered the human race, not the Irken race. This one was not paid for. Besides that, he has the blood of dozens of Irkens on his hands. Not a single training session passed without him murdering some classmate, not to mention the thousands that died due to his efforts in Impending Doom. Of his own race, no less. An incompetent murderer like him is rightfully mine!"

_He gave himself to Me._

Zim turned his head, but could not see. The light blinded him, searing his eyes so that the figure beside him seemed dull and dingy in comparison.

_He gave himself to me. The price covers any who choose._

Zim's heart leaped. "Ayam?"

At the mention of that name, the grip on Zim's shoulder loosened. Jerking away, Zim rushed forward, shouting, "Ayam! Ayam!"

He couldn't see, but he staggered onward, arms outstretched, blindly groping on. The light weighed down on him, pressing him to his knees. He dropped, panting, to his face, arms stretched forward as if to keep reaching. As he did, a voice wound through his mind.

_I Am preparing events, Zim, to appear to your kind. During the next thousand years, I will begin calling together ones, like you, who can hear Me. They will speak to the Irken race. They will be rejected time and time again, with ridicule, exile, and execution. But I will come to them, just as I came to the humans. Then, just as the humans have had to choose, so will the Irken race._

Zim remained cowed on the ground, trembling. His vision cleared, and a pair of boots came into view. Zim gasped. They were standard issue Invader boots. Trembling, he pushed himself up and raised his eyes, but only a little. He took in the black boots and the bottom hem of a red tunic, striped black. A three-clawed hand reached out to him. He hesitated, terrified. He couldn't look up or come close to this being, it wasn't possible. The light had all but blinded him, he would melt away entirely!

_Come, Zim._

Gulping, Zim reached out a shaking hand and grasped the other's. A strong grip pulled him fully to his feet, but he kept his eyes lowered.

_"Look at Me."_

His antennae trembled as they heard Ayam's voice for the first time. Tentatively, Zim raised his eyes.

A warm smile greeted him, a toothy one framing zipper-like teeth. Ruby-red eyes reflected Zim's shocked expression. The Irken was, perhaps, an inch or two taller than Zim, but looked like him in almost every respect.

 _"Greetings, Zim. I have wanted you to see Me for a long, long time."_ Ayam grinned like a child, and asked, _"Well, what do you think?"_

Zim's legs buckled, and he would have fallen to his face again if the Ayam had not held him firmly.

Zim shook his head, mumbling, "How is this possible, the Records say you came to Earth as a Human. How are you Irken?"

Ayam threw back his head and laughed. _"Ah, Zim. I Am neither Human nor Irken, Vortian nor Meekrob. I Am, and I will take any form I must in order to save whoever chooses."_ Sobering, he stared into the ex-Invader's eyes piercingly. _"And I will come to your people. Not in your lifetime, though. There is something I would ask of you, Zim."_

"Anything," Zim blurted. "Anything, you are my Commander, just tell me what to do!"

Ayam smiled. _"Zim, would you be the first to spread word of my coming arrival to your people?"_

Zim froze. "B-but I am in exile, I am outcast, who will even listen to me when I am a laughingstock?"

_"The Records, Zim. Remember the Records. Mowsis was a murderer and an exile who couldn't even speak without stammering. Jaykub was a thief. Rayhab was a prostitute. Yet through these people I accomplished My will. If you keep listening to Me and what I say, I will guide you."_

Quietly, Zim murmured, "Ayam, you said… you mentioned ridicule, exile, and execution. I have already had the first two… will I have the third?"

Ayam's eyes softened, and his mouth turned down. _"Yes, Zim. For what you say, you will be executed. Know this, though."_ Before Zim could react, the Essence of Existence, the Beginning of all things, pulled him into a tight embrace. _"Even if you choose not to take this mission, I will still love you as much as the day I created you."_

Zim absorbed this in shocked silence, standing rigid. Slowly, his muscles relaxed, and he buried his face in Ayam's shoulder, his body shaking with silent sobs. When he could speak again, he cried, "I will go, I will go."

The embrace tightened, and Ayam glowed. _"Thank you, Zim. And when your execution comes, do not be afraid. I will be there, waiting for you on the other side."_

Light exploded all around him. He bolted upright with a scream. GIR had seized the controls and was piloting the ship toward the sun, fending off Dib's frantic attempts to retake the helm. Growling, Zim shoved the little SIR aside and wrestled the ship back onto course.

GIR giggled. "I wanted a tan."

Dib rolled his eyes. Gir sucked on his foot for a little while, then asked, "Master, where we goin'?"

"We're going to Irk, GIR."

"Back home? Why?"

"Because we have a new mission. A very important one."

GIR clapped his hands gleefully. "We gonna do more destroyin'?"

A small smirk tugged at the corner of Zim's mouth. "Just the opposite, GIR. Don't try to understand right now, I don't need your head exploding. I'll try to explain when we're closer to Irk. Okay?"

"Okay!" The robot grinned and plopped down in the co-pilot's seat to stare at the stars whizzing by. Dib stared at Zim.

"Hey spaceboy… you really think this is going to work? You really think you can tell the Irken race about Ayam?"

"Nope." Zim settled himself. He glanced at Dib askance. "Not by myself anyway."

"Look, I'll help if I can, but there's only so much I can do."

"I wasn't talking about you, Dib. I was talking about Ayam. Cause the only way this is even going to come close to working is if He's doing this."

Dib stared, then looked out the window. "I guess you're right."

Zim turned to him, a look of evil delight sprawled across his face. "What did you just say?"

Dib glared. "I'm not repeating it."

"You don't have to," Zim chuckled, "The computer was recording. Computer, bring up the last minute of records."

Dib leaped up. "Don't you dare, you rotten alien!" but a small grin worked its way to his mouth.

Zim laughed, rising as well. "Bring it on, earthworm! See if you can defeat the mighty Zim!"

The ship bucked a little as it began passing the planets, stars, and debris littered throughout the Milky Way, jostling the combatants inside. Gentle laughter echoed through the passages of space, wending around the planets and bursting among the stars.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, why did I write this? A couple reasons. First, I'd just written two incredibly morbid chapters/stories for IZ, and I was tired of it. I was morbided out, so to speak. Probably won't last, but for now, I wanted to "rest my mind" on something less dark. Second, this idea lodged in my brain. When things like this lodge in my brain, I must write them, or they never ever dislodge.


	6. Messengers

"Good grief, Zim." Dib massaged his temples wearily. "Irkens are so literal, it's hard to tell them anything Ayam said."

"What do you mean?" Zim demanded, glancing at his co-pilot. "What Ayam said in the Records is literal, isn't it?"

"Yes, most of what he said is literal, but he told a lot of stories to make a point. It's hard to explain the story about the farmer scattering seeds when they all get hung up on what a seed is and why the birds fly down to eat the seeds, and what sort of civilization still uses such primitive food production, etcetera."

"Well that's why you're here." Zim responded irritably. "You're supposed to help explain in ways they can understand. I sort of understand it, but I'm not sure I have the right way of putting it."

It had been two days since they'd first made contact with an Irken patrol. Initially, the patrol had been suspicious of the transmission they'd received from the mutilated Irken and the alien traveling with him, but with nothing to do, they'd been just bored enough to listen as Zim stumbled through a brief explanation of what had happened to him, and who Ayam was. That, of course, led to incredulous questions, often mocking in nature.

"A voice in your head? How many brainworm eggs did you eat?"

"If this Ayam is so amazing, why haven't we heard about him yet?"

"You're saying that you learned about this Ayam as an Invader on another planet. What sort of Invader starts praising the primitive beliefs of the natives?"

Eventually the patrol moved on, no longer amused by Zim's frustrated retorts. Afterward, Zim had sunk into a sort of sulk, piloting the ship around as he searched for a potential base of operations.

"Look, it happens. Not everyone listens." Dib tilted his head. "What was it exactly that Ayam told you to do, again?"

"To tell the Irken race that he would be coming."

"Well, then, tell them that."

"I just tried!"

"No, moron. You tried to tell them about the time he CAME to Earth. Not that he's GOING to come to them. You're trying to give them the human version."

"But that's because there isn't an Irken version."

"Right, and I'm helping translate ideas for Irkens who are more interested, but until we find some that are more interested, I think your main focus is telling people that Ayam is coming."

Zim stared out the window thoughtfully. "You think so?"

"Obviously, or I wouldn't have said it."

"Perhaps that is the right approach. Very well then, we will test this new way on the next patrol we find."

"And if they laugh us out of orbit?" Dib prodded.

Zim puffed out his chest and set his jaw. "Then we keep trying."

Dib nodded, then straightened. "Hey spaceboy, is there a way of getting a lot of information out to a lot of Irkens really quickly?"

Zim glanced at him. "There's the Irken Information Network. It is similar to your internet, but much more advanced."

"Yeah yeah, your technology is the greatest, whatever. Make a video."

"What?"

"Make a video, or a hologram or whatever. Tell your message to a recording device and send it out over the Information Network. That way, it'll get out to… how many Irkens?"

Zim grinned. "More than you can count. Sometimes you're not too horrible to be around, Dib, in spite of your huge head."

"Hey thanks. Wait…"

….

"Hey, Pur, have you seen this?" Red gestured at the viewscreen in front of him. "There's something new on the Network. Somebody's impersonating Zim. Doing a pretty good job of it too. Just missing an eye and an antenna."

"Lemme see," Purple snatched the viewscreen, staring at it. "Hey, you're right. He talks like Zim, and he looks like Zim. He even has that same kind of SIR in the background."

"What?" Red grabbed it back and stared. Sure enough, behind the image of the Irken talking, a cyan-eyed SIR bounced around on its head, singing nonsensical songs. He sputtered, "But it can't be! Zim was caught on Earth, they put an end to him! How the flirk did this happen?"

Purple shrugged. "I dunno. What's he saying?"

Red rewound the recording to the beginning and watched. After a few minutes, he tossed it aside, disgusted. "Some Hogulus dung about his new commander, an all-knowing all-powerful being called Ayam."

"Hey!" Purple protested. "We're the only ones who get to be all-knowing and all-powerful around here."

"I know!" Red growled. "If Zim thinks he can undermine us he's mistaken. I'm sick of his antics, he's not funny anymore. Technology drones! Analyze this transmission. Trace it to its source and have soldiers arrest Zim and bring him to us." He glared at the screen. "This time he won't get off so lucky. Just an eye and an antenna, huh? Soldiers! Withhold food from the Devorrahs. Their next meal will be live."


	7. Captured

"Hey spaceboy, I may not be up-to-date on Irken technology, but isn't it usually bad if red lights are flashing?"

Zim's head snapped up. He'd been so busy with GIR, he hadn't been paying attention. Scrambling for the controls, he checked the screens. "Yes, it's bad. But everything's functioning perfectly well…" His eyes narrowed as he scanned the information. "Oh flirk…"

"What?" Dib asked nervously.

"We're being hailed by a patrol unit with the authority of the Tallests."

"I'm guessing that's bad."

"Given that they hoped I was dead? Yes." Grabbing Dib, he yanked him into the control seat.

"What are you doing?" Dib yelped. "I don't know how to fly this thing!"

"Figure it out!" Zim snapped. "I have to finish with GIR!"

"Finish—"

"Just fly!"

"Alright!"

Zim bent over GIR and continued with his task, new urgency fueling his motions. He held the information module to the inside of GIR's head as he welded it in place. The ship jerked to the side, and Zim's spiderlegs shot out to keep him in place. He couldn't afford to damage the module. It contained a basic summary of most of the Records, as well as the closest they could get to a translation of the portions known as John and Romans. These, Dib had insisted, would help the most. Finishing the final seam, Zim hurriedly piled in all the garbage he'd removed from GIR's head. It would help mask the module.

He hadn't understood why Ayam had told him to hide the Records in GIR's head, but then he hadn't known they would be chased by the Tallests' patrols. If they were caught… Grimly he turned GIR back on.

"Master! It all went dark and I talked with the squirrels."

"Very nice GIR, now listen to Zim."

"CHEEEEEESE!"

"GIR! This is very important! You carry in your head a secret message. Keep it safe, do you understand?"

"Keep tacos safe. Yes Master!"

Zim paused, then leaned over and patted the SIR's head. "You've been a good minion, GIR."

GIR beamed at his master's praise. "I done good!"

Zim nodded, then picked up the SIR and walked over to the airlock. "Remember, GIR, keep the message safe. Now, go as far away as you can. This is tag, okay? Zim is it. Now, run!"

Placing GIR in the airlock, he sealed the interior portion and opened the exterior. The robot burst out, streaming through space like a shooting star, giggling his head off. Zim could barely hear him screeching, "Master's iiiiiiiiiiiiit…" as he disappeared into space.

Quietly, he murmured, "Goodbye, GIR."

"Zim! Get up here already!" Dib's panicked voice cut through Zim's thoughts. The Irken rushed back to the helm. Dib pointed at a screen where a message flashed in Irken characters. "What does that mean?"

Zim read it with a sinking heart. "It says that if we do not turn around and follow the patrol ships, we will be shot down."

"Well, can we outrun them?"

Zim glanced at the screens all around. "No. They're too close, and there are three of them."

"Can't we blast 'em?"

"No, what part of there are three of them did you not hear? If we shoot down one, the other two will get us for sure." Zim stared at the message, a sort of coldness growing in his squeedly spooch. "I barely got to tell anyone…"

Dib looked up, then poked Zim's arm. "Hey, don't get all melodramatic. They're probably just going to tell us to shut up. Then they'll let us go. Right?"

Zim shivered as he typed in his acceptance of the message and brought the ship around to follow the patrols. "Right. I'm sure that's all that will happen."

…..

It may take an Invader years to earn a megadoomer, Zim thought grimly, but when the Tallests demand that something be done, things move quickly. The execution of a renegade Irken and his alien companion was no exception, it seemed. He stood in a sort of arena lined with black sand. Black sands wouldn't show blood, he noted as he scanned the dome overhead. It was a low glass ceiling built for one-way viewing. He knew that all around, dozens of high-ranking Irkens sat eating snacks and placing bets on who would die first. At the far end would be the Tallests, presiding over the event. But from where he stood, he could only see his own reflection staring back at him.

Behind him, Dib was frantically searching for an exit. "Don't bother," Zim said hollowly. "It won't open unless they want it to, and they don't."

"Excuse me if I'm not ready to give up yet!" Dib snapped, passing his hands back and forth as he felt along the wall."

"I'm not giving up, I'm conserving my energy. You should too. We're going to need it for whatever they have planned."

Grudgingly, Dib saw the validity of what Zim said, and walked over to stand beside him. As he stopped, a gateway opened at the far end of the arena, yawning like a cavernous mouth. Zim stood, frozen. He eyed the four creatures spilling out of the gateway, and knew instantly there would be no surviving.

Devorrahs were fierce hunters. Though somewhat ape-like in appearance, the resemblance to monkeys stopped at their body shape. Brilliant turquoise skin stretched across their bony frames. A wide, grinning smile full of sharp teeth spread over the entire lower half of their faces. Along their torsos, another three mouths gaped, one on top of the other. Zim glanced at the left hand of the first. A fifth mouth grinned at him from the creature's upturned palm. He focused on the mouths, avoiding the eyes. Even so, he heard the voices in his mind.

_**Hello. It is good to meet you, but it is time to eat now.** _

He felt Dib jump, and knew he'd heard as well. His claws curled into fists. "It's just them, Dib. Devorrahs speak from mind to mind, not mouth to mouth."

"Oh, great. _Now_ you tell me."

"Oh, and Dib? Don't look in their eyes."

"Why not? They're not so—OW!"

Zim turned and slapped his face hard. "DO NOT look in their eyes! They have hypnotic powers, and they WILL use it to paralyze you as they strip the flesh off your bones. You have to fight!"

_**Or don't. If you don't fight, we can ensure that you won't feel a thing.** _

Dib stood next to Zim, mumbling, "And just how are we supposed to fight four? I've never fought one of these before, have you?"

"No. Never had to."

"Great. We're screwed."

"Tools have nothing to do with this. Just follow my—"

_Stop._

Zim froze. "No, no no no not now…"

_Don't fight._

"ARE YOU JOKING?" Zim shrilled.

Dib turned to him, pale. "Zim, this is not the time to go crazy! I need you functioning!"

Ignoring him, Zim hissed, "You can't seriously expect Zim to go down without a fight. We have to defend ourselves."

_Do you trust Me?_

Zim eyed the Devorrahs, now spreading out to surround them. His pulse hammered, and he cursed as three of them vanished into his blind spot. One remained, taunting him, inviting him to look into its eyes and keep the pain at bay.

_Do you trust Me?_

"I'm afraid," Zim whispered. "I don't know how to trust you."

 _Will you_ choose _to trust Me?_

Zim's shoulders slumped. "Yes."

_Then look into their eyes._

Zim stared at the ground, oblivious to Dib grabbing his shoulder and shaking him. Suddenly Dib's arm was ripped away from Zim, and Zim himself was shoved to the ground. Rolling over, he stared up at four drooling mouths lined with razor sharp teeth. The sunken eyes of the Devorrah gleamed with hunger as it opened all its mouths and prepared to drop onto the Irken.

He lifted his remaining eye to lock gazes with the Devorrah over him. He could feel its mind slipping through the barriers of his own, winding around the pain centers of his brain and blocking them off. He supposed it was a sort of kindness that he wouldn't feel his death, he allowed, as he waited for Ayam to keep his promise about greeting him on the other side of his execution.

_**Ayam?** _

Puzzled, Zim blinked.

_**What is Ayam? You think the name with such… emotion. It is uncommon in an Irken.** _

"Ayam is my commander."

_**But your commander is the Tallests. That's how it is for the Irkens.** _

"Tallests Purple and Red do not command Zim." Zim grated. "Ayam is my true commander."

The Devorrah's mind continued prodding, looking for memories surrounding the name. It stood over him, staring for what seemed an eternity. Without warning, it withdrew, leaving Zim dizzy from the sensation. It turned aside and gave a low growl.

Zim turned his head. With a shout, he sprang to his feet and rushed over. During his encounter, Dib had been the object of a desperate struggle for food. He lay on the sands, bleeding, his trench coat ripped to shreds. Zim could see at a glance that Dib's right arm was mangled beyond repair. Another glance showed that Dib's eyes were dilated, and that, at the very least, he could feel nothing.

One of the Devorrahs raised its left hand threateningly, but another growl from the first stopped it. The others turned to the first, angry and questioning expressions on their faces. Zim watched them carefully. From their bony frames and drooping ears, he could tell they'd been starved for this occasion, and that refraining from consuming them was taxing their patience.

The band traded stares with each other for a lengthy period of time as Zim tore what was left of Dib's coat into strips, attempting to bind his arm. It was useless, seeing as there was very little of his arm left.

_**More.** _

Zim turned back to the Devorrahs, squinting. "What?"

_**Tell us more. About this Ayam.** _

Glancing down, Zim muttered, "You can't be serious… um, after I finish fixing the Dib's arm."

_**There is no helping that. The best thing to do would be to remove what is left.** _

Zim winced at the thought, but he knew it was correct.

_**We'll dispose of it for you.** _

He bit back an angry response. Hoping Dib would be able to understand later, Zim extended a laser cutter from his PAK and carefully disengaged the arm bone from the socket, simultaneously cauterizing the wound. Slightly disgusted, he threw it at the band. He tried not to listen to the crunching of bone as it disappeared in seconds.

_**Now. Tell us more about this Ayam in your thoughts.** _

* * *


	8. Loss

Dib stared down at his arm. Or rather, his lack of an arm.

"I… I still can't believe you just let them eat my arm off."

Zim shifted uncomfortably. He knew he'd have to face this sooner or later, but he'd preferred later. The effects of the hypnosis, however, had worn off shortly after guards had entered the arena to drag Zim and Dib back to their cell. The Devorrahs had attacked the guards, furious at the interruption of the story Zim had been telling. As the pair were roughly dragged away, one Devorrah had even wailed, _**But who will finish the story?**_

"They'd already eaten most of your arm by the time I got to you. There was no help for it."

"No thanks to you. If you hadn't suddenly zoned out, we might have been able to hold them off." Dib snapped.

"Ayam was telling me not to fight." Zim muttered.

Dib snorted. "I don't believe you. You just got scared and froze, didn't you? Admit it!"

"Don't be stupid! I wasn't going to die that miserably without a fight! But Ayam said not to. He said to trust him."

"That's crap." Dib said shortly. "That means he was okay with the fact that I was going to lose my arm."

"You're alive," Zim remarked, "Which wouldn't be the case if I'd decided to do it my way."

Dib glared at him. "I notice _you_ got away fine. What, so you're Ayam's special messenger, and nothing bad happens to you cause you have to deliver the message, huh?"

Zim stared at him coldly, and deliberately twitched his remaining antenna. "At least," He hissed, "You had the benefit of not feeling what was done to you, which is more than I can say."

Dib flinched, looking away.

Zim continued, "I trusted what Ayam said, and we are alive. For now, at least."

"But now what?" Dib flung his remaining arm wide. "Now what, Zim? We just rot here until they decide to find some other way of killing us, or shutting us up? I didn't sign up for this! I'm just a kid! My Dad thinks I'm at space camp, for crying out loud. I thought we'd be telling a few key aliens the basics of the message and leaving the rest up to chance."

"Chance?" Zim's eyes narrowed. "You would leave something this important up to chance? Oh, right, I forgot. It isn't _your_ kind that we're talking about, it's filthy aliens, right? YOU have nothing to worry about, since Ayam already gave your kind Records. Never mind about MY kind, that doesn't even have a CLUE about any of this. They're following leaders that couldn't care _less_ whether they live or die no matter how much effort they put into their missions." His voice rose in intensity. "Before all this I didn't even know what a soul was and when I did, I dismissed the idea because I probably didn't have one. Dib! There isn't even a word in my language for 'soul'! There isn't a concept for 'forgiveness'! All there is is honor, duty, servitude, and revenge that never ends!"

"Zim—"

"All you care about is that stupid rock that sits there, destroying itself all by itself because it forgot everything it was made for in the first place! But you think that just because you have the Records, yours is the worthier kind! Because Ayam was human first, that obviously he must favor you!"

"Zim!"

"And maybe he does favor you, but that doesn't mean you leave something this important to _chance_!"

"Zim, you idiot, shut up and listen!" Dib yelled. Then he paused. "Actually, I didn't have anything to say, I just wanted you to stop shouting. Wait, no, I do have something to say. Look, this is hard, okay? This isn't what I expected, and I just lost my arm. I'm trying to figure all this out still, and know what else? I don't hear Ayam's voice. You're lucky, Zim. Because I don't hear him like that. I'd love to hear him right now, it would make things a lot easier. He could tell me exactly what I'm supposed to do, and exactly why he thought it was necessary for me to lose my arm." Zim opened his mouth, but Dib cut him off. "Yeah, I know, we're alive and blah blah blah. Great. Wonderful. It still hurts to lose a part of my body! I mean, I have to retrain my other arm how to write and do everything else my right arm used to do. I shouldn't even be here right now, I should be back on Earth, not on some planet on the edge of the known universe recovering from a… a… what were those things?"

"Devorrahs."

"From a Devorrah attack. You see! I shouldn't even have to know what a Devorrah is." He pulled his knees up to his chest, resting his arm on top of them. "It's just all… really overwhelming."

Zim looked at Dib for a long time. He forgot, at times, how young his former enemy was. Barely out of smeethood, even by Earth standards.

"If there's one thing I've learned about humans, it's how resilient they can be." Zim spoke slowly, carefully choosing his words. "This will be difficult, but you will learn to overcome it." He sighed. "Besides, I wouldn't be surprised if, when you got back, your parental unit threw himself into designing a new super-arm for you."

Dib chuckled at that. "True. He would."

The door to their cell slid aside. Zim and Dib tensed as four guards aimed lasers at them and barked, "You've been summoned to the Tallests' judgment hall. Come."

Rising, they filed out of the cell and walked down the halls, flanked by the guards. Dib nudged Zim and whispered, "Hey spaceboy, you know, maybe this is your chance to tell the Tallests about Ayam. You didn't really get a chance last time, they just sent us to the arena."

Zim's expression hardened. "Them? They don't deserve to hear about Ayam."

Dib glanced at him thoughtfully. "You didn't either, did you?"

This gave Zim pause, but he didn't get to think much about it. They approached the door to the Tallests' judgment hall. The guards then stopped and pulled Dib forward to stand beside Zim. Two guards stepped away, and the other two grabbed the handles of the door at arm's length. Zim frowned, a prickle of unease sliding down his spine. The guards yanked open the doors and pressed themselves flat against the wall.

It was a simple room, with a purple floor and a red ceiling. Its back wall was a bank of clear panels showing the expanse of space. In the center of the room hovered a dais, on which the Tallests stood.

All this Zim registered in half a second. In the other half, he registered Purple, blindfolded, pointing a laser at them. He half-turned to Dib in an attempt to shove him out of the way, but it was too late. The shot had been fired in the first half-second, and Zim could only watch as a laser bolt buried itself in the middle of Dib's face.


	9. Hate

The boy's face held its expression of surprise for a moment or two before it sort of relaxed into resignation as his body toppled forward. Zim instinctually dove to catch him, grabbing his shirt before he hit the ground. He lowered the human to the ground and checked his heartbeat.

Purple lifted his blindfold, then groaned. Red punched his shoulder. "I told you you'd shoot the alien first, you owe me monies."

Purple glared. "Stupid alien, cost me monies. Red, if I find out you rigged this, you'll owe me triple."

"Dib!" Zim screamed. "Don't you dare! You… you! You do not get to die. Do you hear me? I forbid this!"

Red and Purple burst into fits of cackling laughter.

"You forbid him to die? Do you still think you have any kind of power?" Purple snickered. "Where's your almighty Ayam? If he's almighty, he should have stopped this." Purple raised his voice. "Am I right everybody?"

Hesitant murmurs from spectators around the room lent their support, but Purple wasn't satisfied. He said, louder, "I said, am I right?"

The murmurs turned into hearty agreement. Nobody wanted to be thrown out the airlock.

Zim raised his head and shouted, "Ayam, make him alive again! You did it, you did it for your friend in the Records, you did it for a female smeet and a male smeet, make Dib alive again!"

For a moment, the room held its collective breath, waiting for something to happen.

Nothing happened.

Zim crumpled over the body of the boy, his shoulders shaking.

Red strode down from the dais and grabbed Zim by the collar, yanking him up to eye-level. To his shock, great goopy globs were falling from Zim's eyes, as the Irken shrieked and clawed at Red's arm.

"You _defect_." Red sneered. "You've sunk so low you would actually _cry_ over the death of an inferior species." He flung Zim to the floor, curling his lip in disgust as the smaller Irken crawled right back to the alien's side and pulled the shell close.

"Get him out of here, and dispose of the body."

…

Zim slammed his fists into the wall over and over again, screaming. His spooch felt like he'd been eating jagged metal as he shouted repeatedly, "HOW DARE YOU! HOW DARE YOU! HOW DARE YOU!" When he stopped shouting that, he started yelling, "WHERE WERE YOU? WHY DIDN'T YOU STOP THEM? WHY DIDN'T YOU BRING HIM BACK?"

After about an hour of this, he finally slid down to the floor of his cell, spent. He closed his eyes, but it didn't stop the images in his mind. Images of the laser blast drilling a neat, bloodless hole through Dib's head. He wrapped his arms around his stomach as if he could hold himself together that way.

He waited. Waited for Ayam's voice to come and answer his questions, make everything clear and sensible. Waited for the soothing peace that would come and the assurance that, somehow, Dib would of course be brought back.

Instead, he was met with silence. Hour after hour of silence.

Eventually, he broke the silence. "He was only a smeet," he hissed venomously. "He had no business being killed. He was supposed to live longer. He was supposed to go back to Earth and get a new arm and live a normal life. Humans are already ridiculously short lived as it is, and you just stand there and watch as he dies long before he's supposed to? You know what?" His voice rose. "If you're that unfair, that unjust, you're no better than the Tallests. I hate you! Do you hear me? I HATE YOU!"

Silence was his only answer. He lay down on the floor and vehemently wished the guards would come back. He was more than ready to die, if only to stop this horrible throbbing ache in his gut, the feeling borne from the thought that he had been betrayed by his commander. Again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (this note written in 2010) I wrote this chapter in particular because I am dealing with the probable death of a friend. This friend incurred a staph infection at a hospital that didn't know what it was doing, and it can't be counteracted. Short of an intervention from God, I will be losing this friend sooner rather than later. So I am also grappling with the issue of death. And I don't know all the answers. I wish I did. Like I said before, I process things in terms of Zim sometimes.
> 
> And yes. I have had my shouting matches at God. The best thing anybody ever told me was, "He's big enough to take whatever you can dish out."


	10. Life

Zim stood on a raised platform. A small crowd of Irkens had been chosen to witness his formal execution by the Control Brains themselves. The Brains had already sent wires into his PAK, preparing to drain all data from it. Zim refused to look up. It had only been a few hours since his outburst at Ayam, but he couldn't stop thinking about it. Why _had_ Ayam let Dib be killed? He'd known his own execution would happen, but why the Dib? What was the point? What was the meaning? Every time he thought he'd come to a conclusion, the thought would return him to the beginning of the cycle. They hadn't even completed the mission they'd been sent on. Was it all a waste?

"Ex-Invader Zim. Is there anything you have to say before your execution?" The Control Brains intoned, and the crowd went silent. Even the worst traitor got to say his final words in peace, that was the law.

Zim closed his eyes. What would he say? What _could_ he say? He didn't understand any of it. It made no sense. But then, it never did, until he asked Ayam. But he'd screamed that he hated him. Ayam wouldn't listen to him now, wouldn't answer his questions. He might as well save his breath and not ask.

Because he might be rejected. Startled, he recognized that thought. From the dozens of times it had run through his mind as he lay rotting in the cells of the Swollen Eyeball. He had refused to ask, because it would hurt his pride, and he would be left with nothing. His pride, that left no room for Ayam.

Swallowing hard, Zim whispered, "Ayam… help me. Please. Why? Why Dib? And what do I say?"

His mind whipped backwards. Back to the pain of the testing, back to the times he was alone under the scalpel. Overlaying the memory was the sound of screaming. Ayam's screaming. Zim's pain was Ayam's pain. Zim wasn't alone. He hadn't been alone. The Ayam was there, the whole time.

The crowd murmured some. The prisoner wasn't saying anything. Was he forfeiting his right to final words?

Slowly, Zim looked up. A look of comprehension bloomed on his face. Slowly, as if realizing it as he spoke, he said, "Just because Ayam didn't save Dib, doesn't mean he couldn't have. Just because he didn't, doesn't mean he didn't care." He lifted his eyes to the Tallests, and a small smile crossed his face. "He wanted me to be able to tell you Ayam is still real, Ayam is still all-knowing, and Ayam is still all-powerful, _in spite of what happened_. Where was he?" To the shock of everyone in the room, Zim threw back his head and laughed. "He was there, there to take the Dib away. Away to the place he spoke of, to be with him forever, a place where no one can ever hurt him again." He grinned at the Tallests crookedly. "And you're about to send me there too. Thank you. You have no idea what you are doing."

Red crossed the room and leaned over, gripping Zim's face in his claws hard enough to draw blood. He growled, "That was the human belief. Even if it was true, it was only true for the humans. As soon as your PAK is erased, Zim, so are you. You will cease to be. There is no all-powerful being waiting for you. You're Irken."

For a moment, fear flickered in Zim's eyes, and satisfaction filled Red's face. But it drained away as the fear in Zim's eyes was replaced by a strange glimmer, a sort of knowing, almost. And even pity.

"The price," Zim whispered, "covers any who choose. That's what he said. I chose."

"Initiate PAK decommissioning." Purple crossed his arms. "He's irritating me."

The wires connecting to Zim's PAK thrummed with electricity as they began sifting through every moment of Zim's short century and a half. As each memory came up, it disintegrated. Personality traits were destroyed. Life support was terminated.

The process took less than two minutes, and the PAK, now reformatted for a new Irken, was detached from Zim's back and whisked away.

Zim dropped to his hands and knees. At the corner of his vision, he could see his life clock counting down. Ten minutes, he mused. What could he do with ten minutes?

_Tell them._

Zim almost laughed. Executions were broadcasted live to every Irken through their PAKs. It was a warning, and one that was watched with much enjoyment. Weakness was already overtaking his limbs, but he lifted his head, and from his place on his knees, he began to shout.

"Irkens! Invaders! Listen to Zim! There is an Ayam, and he will be coming. He will come and give you the choice he gave to the humans. He will teach you a different way. Be ready! He is a great commander, and a good one." Here he stared directly at Red. "He doesn't abandon his soldiers, no matter what happens."

A laser blast split the air, burying itself in Zim's torso. Gasping, he keeled over, clutching the wound. Red turned to see Purple aiming again.

"Pur, knock it off, he's already dying." Red grabbed for the laser.

"He's annoying me." Purple snarled, yanking it out of Red's reach.

"GIR," Zim gasped, gathering his strength for a last shout. "The Records of Ayam… with GIR… look for… blue-eyed SIR… ask… about Records…" A second laser blast slammed into Zim's head, snapping it backwards. His body flopped to the ground.

"Guards," Purple called. "Take that body away, shoot it into space or something. And stop broadcasting, the execution is over."

…

He remembered this place. He'd been here before. He stood in a tunnel, watching his body collapse on one side, and seeing a brilliant light at the other. He hurried toward the light, but again, a cold hand gripped his shoulder, halting him. He almost laughed. Didn't this creature remember?

"You're wasting your time," Zim smirked.

The jeweled figure stared down at him, an expression of infinite disgust on his face. "Do you really think He wants you? Look at yourself!"

Startled, Zim glanced down. To his horror, he realized he wore no uniform. He was utterly naked, and his skin was covered in rotting, festering sores. Filth caked every wound, and a horrible stench rose from his body.

_Come._

Zim shrank. He didn't want to be seen by the owner of that voice. Not like this. But the grip propelled him forward.

_Zim._

The Irken shook. This was the voice of Ayam, but it sounded different. Sterner.

_Let us see._

See? Zim wondered. See what?

Before his eyes, an image appeared. A smeet being hatched, then jerked away from its cold, unfeeling robot arm. Zim gasped, recognizing his first moments of life.

The image was replaced by others, each succeeding the last in rapid succession. Every moment in Zim's life was displayed. Every success and every failure was noted. Zim willed himself to vanish. So many failures, so many…

Something strange began to happen. There, in the succession of images, was Zim shouting, "Be my commander!" Yet as he spoke the words, something began sliding down the image. Something smooth and red was dripping down it. Fascinated, Zim pulled away from the hand and touched the substance, lifting it to his face. Astonished, he watched as the liquid trickled down his arm, sealing every wound it came in contact with. And wherever it came in contact with scar tissue, it would slough off, revealing fresh skin underneath.

With a cry, Zim plunged into the red drippings, rubbing it all over his body. He would be clean, he would be whole! He could present himself to Ayam this way! He splashed it on his face and opened his eyes—both of them The red stuff had restored his eye. Eagerly, he rubbed it on his head and squealed with delight as he felt his antenna regrow as well.

When he had finished, he stepped out from the substance, scattering it everywhere. "Ayam!" he shouted. "Ayam, I'm clean!"

 _You see,_ the voice rumbled, _you have no claim on him. He chose to accept._

Zim turned to see the bejeweled figure raise a fist, fury darkening its face. Then it turned and stalked off.

_Zim._

Zim turned, still dripping wet, and beamed. "Ayam! What is this stuff, it's amazing!"

_My blood, Zim._

Zim froze, his spooch recoiling in terror. He was wearing the blood of his commander? He'd washed in it? Treated it so lightly? Dropping to his knees, Zim wailed, "I'm sorry! I'm sorry! I didn't know!"

 _Zim._ A strong grip lifted him to his feet. _It was the only thing that could clean you. I gave it to you gladly. It is my gift. And now,_ a cloth was produced. A linen so white Zim could barely look at it. To his amazement it was wrapped around him. _Now I can bring you home._

"Home?" Zim queried.

_With Me._

"But Ayam, what about what you told me to do? I didn't get to finish! I only told the Devorrahs a little bit, and the Irkens may never find the Records with GIR!"

_You did exactly what I asked of you. Leave the rest to Me. I'll take care of it. You did very well, Zim. Now, come. There's someone who wants to see you._

"Eh?" Zim quirked an antenna as he was led forward. "Who—"

"Spaceboy!"

Zim gaped as Dib bounded toward him. Eagerly he grabbed Zim's arm. "You made it! That's so awesome!"

"Dib! Dib, you meatsack, you're alright!" Zim grinned ecstatically.

Dib laughed. "Of course I'm alright, what did you expect? Now come on! You've no idea all the cool stuff that goes on… it's gonna take forever to show you. And there's a party going on!"

"A party?"

"Yeah. I mean, you _are_ the first Irken here. It's a big deal!"

Zim chuckled as he let himself be dragged off by Dib.

All around him, he could sense Ayam. He was with the Essence of Existence, and at that moment the Essence shouted with all the joy in His being, _Welcome home. It's just begun!_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next story: Elyon.

**Author's Note:**

> This is NOT meant to beat anybody over the head. It is not meant to shove anything down your throat. This is merely stating my beliefs in Invader Zim format. An odd format to say the least, but one in which I often think and experiment with different ideas. So again, this is not to beat anyone over the head or anything like that. This is merely a story-statement of my belief. You can accept or decline or ignore as you choose. Lastly, I do not claim to be a theologian. There are probably errors in what I wrote, I acknowledge.


End file.
